


Cold Lips

by CharlieTheUnicorn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Sad Crowley, Sad Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 03:30:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12879261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlieTheUnicorn/pseuds/CharlieTheUnicorn
Summary: About a month ago, Crowley appeared in the bunker a little after 1am to find Dean still sitting at the table. Dean was surrounded by books but it was obvious that he wasn't reading them. Instead he was drinking cheap liquor. The kind of liquor that tasted like gasoline and burned every part of the body as it touched his tongue. The kind of liquor that Dean drank when he needed his mind to stop.OrDean thinks and drinks and Crowley just wants a kiss





	Cold Lips

**Author's Note:**

> Excuse mistakes. I only write when it's like 3am and I'm sleep deprived. 
> 
> It's a little rough, but hey it's the first chapter. It'll be better...
> 
> Probably. 
> 
> Enjoy~

Dean always thinks too much. His vacant expression often made people assume that he didn't think enough. Or maybe it was the fact that he seemed to jump into things without thinking. That was never the case.

Dean often thought and rethought and thought again until taking the most irrational route seemed like the best idea. 

Then there were days when he could think himself into a drunken stupor and still not have a reasonable conclusion to whatever problem he was having. 

He often found himself sitting in his room, thinking until the sun came up.

That's where Dean found himself today. The sun was due to come up any second now. Not that he would see it considering he was in a bunker. He knew this because the digital clock on his dresser was way too bright and he couldn't draw his eyes away from it. He didn't have a time to be up, but he knew if he slept later than 11:00am Sam would worry. He knew that lack of sleep will eventually make his body shut down and he would get a full five hours of sleep. But those five hour needed to be now.

Dean's mind was turning. He hasn't been able to sleep since Crowley's last visit.

About a month ago, Crowley appeared in the bunker a little after 1am to find Dean still sitting at the table. Dean was surrounded by books but it was obvious that he wasn't reading them. Instead he was drinking cheap liquor. The kind of liquor that tasted like gasoline and burned every part of his body as made it's way through him. The kind of liquor that Dean drank when he needed his mind to stop. 

It was his first glass so Dean wasn't as fucked up as he intended to be when the night was over. In other words, he was way too sober to deal with Crowley.

"Drinking alone?" Crowley sat down at the table, looking way too comfortable. "Is there a sadder way to drink?"

"Drinking with a demon." Dean said bitterly, he still poured a shot for Crowley and slid it to the demon.

Dean sat at the opposite end of the table so he was kind of proud of himself when the glass slid all the way to the end, directly into Crowley's hand. Crowley being a demon probably helped it along, but Dean could pretend.

Dean expected Crowley to dump it out and use the glass for scotch or whiskey if Crowley was having that kind of day, but he downed the contents of the glass.

"Awful." Crowley stated, but he snapped his fingers and the glass filled again and Dean could tell by the off brown color that it was the same kind of liquor.

"That kind of night?" Dean asked.

"That kind of life." Crowley stated. 

It was cheesy, but neither one could find the will to care. 

So, they drank. They drank until the room seemed brighter, their moods were lighter, and they weren't repulsed by their current company. 

At some point throughout the night they migrated closer to eachother. Seeking warmth and comfort. They needed a distraction and well... They've done worse. 

"You're not that bad." Dean said, leaning against Crowley. It wasn't a great compliment. It was a compliment nonetheless so Crowley took it. 

Crowley felt warm and a little sentimental. Looking at Dean, a soft and stupidly drunk human, he couldn't help but want to kiss him. 

And he did. He kissed Dean. It was kind of sloppily and their lips moved awkwardly against one another. But they kissed. It only lasted a moment before Dean pulled away. 

The rest of the night was a blur. 

Dean hasn't seen Crowley since then, but he wanted to. As much as he hated to admit it, he kind of missed him. A month was a long time and he needed to talk to the demon. Tell him it was drunken mistake. Set things straight. Sure, Dean liked the kiss and Crowley wasn't terrible company. But Dean had standards. 

Didn't he?

Deciding that tomorrow, well later today, he would call Crowley, Dean fell into an uneasy sleep. He dreamed about red eyes and cold lips. Not that dreams meant anything when you hunted the thing that you wanted to kiss.


End file.
